


A Window Seat

by orphan_account



Category: Rush (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, James - Freeform, James is scared of flying, M/M, Niki - Freeform, Niki is a dickwagon, Precious Angel Babies, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, planes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 00:06:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1837102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James and Niki are sat next to each other on a plane. Insults and swearing in German ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Window Seat

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, buddies! Um, this is my first fanfiction, so I'm not really sure what I'm doing here. Also, please, please comment on any mistakes I might have made, no matter how small. And let me know what you think! Enjoy <3

Today is not a good day for James Hunt. He's sober and it's one in the morning on a Saturday. Usually at this time, he would be the life of a party somewhere, on his sixth drink or so, with a pretty girl, or likely two, clinging to him. Later he would probably end up in a bed with one or both of them. But not today. Today he is lugging a heavy duffel through security in an American airport, on his way to catch a red-eye to Heathrow International. 

"Next," a makeup-less TSA woman calls, and James ambles over, presenting his ID, passport and boarding pass. She takes them with blue-gloved hands, checking them over and stamping the boarding pass. Finished, she hands them back, gives him a smile and a "Have a nice flight, sir," and beckons to the next person in line.

James heaves his bag onto the metal counters, taking a plastic tub and divesting himself of shoes, pocket change, wallet and mobile. He shoves his gear down those awful rolling bars - you know the ones - and waits for the next TSA officer, a young man this time, to beckon him through the metal detector.

ERNGH. ERNGH. ERNGH. The red light flashes, James's headache quadruples, and the officer directs him over to the side to be patted down by another blue-shirted and black-vested woman.

Today is a truly shit day for James Hunt.

***

Today is not a good day for Niki Lauda. He's tired and stressed, speed-walking through the airport at 1:26 AM to catch a connecting flight that's departing in 4 minutes. He weaves through the stream of people meandering along, crying children, wide-eyed tourists, texting businessmen. Nearly colliding with a stocky man in a tan suit, Niki spies Gate C17, where the last call for boarding is being made. He hurries up to the desk, handing over his boarding pass. The desk lady has ginger hair and freckles all over her face and arms. She scans his pass and waves him into the tunnel. He nods his thanks and continues on his way. 

The plane is almost completely full. Niki checks his boarding pass, he's in seat 27F - a window seat. He edges down the aisle to Row 27. The middle and aisle seats are taken, a red-jacketed man with long floppy blond hair in the middle, and an elderly woman wearing large silver earrings in the aisle. Niki clears his throat, and they look up at him. 

"Excuse me, I'm in the window." The woman rises, shuffling into the aisle to allow Niki past her. The blond guy half-stands, and Niki slips past him as politely as is possible in the fourteen inches of space he has. Just avoid eye contact and you're good.

"You're not from around here, are you?" The blond guy says conversationally once Niki is settled in his seat. His accent sounds British. He must be on his way home from a visit to the states.

"Neither are you." Niki says curtly.

"I asked first," The man smiles slightly. Niki doesn't reply.

"Your accent sounds German," Blond Man muses aloud. Niki’s got a new nickname for him. Arschloch. 

"Austrian." Niki can't stop himself from correcting the man. He hates when people confuse him for German.

"See? Wasn't so hard, was it?" Arschloch says with an easy grin.

"And you are from Britain, yes?" Niki’s not going to let him win.

"Indeed I am, just on my way home. What brings you to the states, my friend?" 

"Do you talk to everyone like this?" Niki really wants to sleep, and this overly friendly British man is bothering him.

"Well, yes, but you look tired, and I'm sober and my head hurts and I want you to feel my pain,  so I'm especially talking to you!" Arschloch says cheerily.

Niki just closes his eyes and turns his face to the window. 

***

James feels slightly guilty for being such a wanker to this poor bloke, but he's in a terrible mood right now, and he would feel even worse about bothering Margaret, the woman in the aisle. He actually is pretty tired, but the painkillers he took while waiting to board haven't kicked in yet, so there's no way he's going to fall asleep.

After another ten minutes or so of fucking around with his mobile, playing Fruit Ninja, the plane taxis out onto the runway and speeds up to take off. James is gripping the armrests with white knuckles, staring straight ahead and breathing deeply. He hates taking off. Once they're in the air, he'll be fine, but this part is always bollocks.

Of course, Niki chooses this moment to awaken, glancing over at James and smirking. He pats his arm mockingly, murmuring, "Scared, are we?" That damn accent makes it worse. Bloody rat bastard.

"Bugger off," James mutters through clenched teeth. The Austrian's grin widens. But then he does something surprisingly thoughtful. He answers James's earlier question.

"I was in the United States because I was asked to help with the design of a new engine for electric cars," he begins.

"Sorry?" James is caught off guard. 

"I'm answering your question, dummkopf. I'm an engineer. I work mostly in the automotive industry." Niki explains. 

"Really? That sounds interesting," James, distracted by the Austrian man's soft voice, has allowed his grip on the armrests to relax a fraction, but as the plane lifts off the ground, his hold tightens again. 

"Yes, I suppose so. If it wasn't interesting, I wouldn't do it." Niki replies.

***

Niki’s not sure why he does it. Maybe he does have a soul hidden somewhere under his curly hair, buck teeth and standoffish attitude. Maybe he's just feeling generous today. Or perhaps he feels guilty about being so terse with the Brit earlier.  Whatever the reason, he just feels a need to help the blond British man stay calm. The best way to do that seems to be starting a conversation to distract him. 

"I design lots of things. Cars, mostly, but I have worked on planes and helicopters also. But my favorites are racing cars. So fast and efficient, not even a tiny detail less than perfect," Niki 

"You're a racing fan? Do you ever watch the races?" James's hands are still clenched on the armrests. 

"Ya, all the time, and you?" James nods, shifting in his seat. 

"When I was a little boy, I would have given anything to be a racing driver. It was my dream," he says. His hands relax a bit. 

"Was?" Niki’s genuinely interested, which doesn't happen often with him.

James laughs softly. "Yes, was. Every little boy wants to be a race car driver or an astronaut, don't they?" He looks down at his lap. "No, my parents had other plans for me."

Niki lets out an amused huff of air. James looks over at him. "Something funny?" 

"In a way, yes," Niki says. "I had a very similar experience. When I was twenty-two, I told my father I was going to be a Formula 1 driver. I said that if he would buy me a car, I would pay it back to him, and what did he do? He laughed in my face. He said that I could not be a race car driver. I had just gotten out of college and I had the opportunity to be very successful, and he was not going to let me throw that away." Niki finishes, looking out the window at the clouds. It's so dark they're not really visible, but if he looks hard he can see their marshmallowy shapes in the night. Below, the sparkling lights of the city fall away like dreams as the plane climbs higher in the black sky.

"No offense, but your father sounds like a rather dried up bastard." The British voice brings Niki back. He laughs shortly.

"I believe you're right, but he was correct. I did consider doing it without his help, but decided that it was too big a risk. But I know that I would have been a great driver." Niki shrugs.

James looks at him. "What makes you so sure?"

Niki doesn't answer. Instead he asks the blond man, "Since you did not become a race car driver, what do you do now?"

***

James inhales, leaning his head back against the seat. He sighs. "Honestly? I'm not sure. I mean, I went to uni, Wellington, actually. My dad's a stockbroker, and I guess I'm the same. I don't have a really proper job, though. Much too boring," he adds.

The little Austrian man gives him a vaguely disgusted look. "So, what you do with yourself is go to parties? Get drunk, sleep with women?"

James grins. "That does seem to happen to me quite often. It's fun, you should try it, my friend." He pats the man's arm - then looks at his hand in surprise. He's no longer holding his armrests for dear life. Somehow talking to this sourpuss has distracted him completely from the plane's ascent. 

"Thank you." The man glances sharply at him, surprised. "For what? Insulting your pathetic way of life? Anytime, mein freund." He smirks.

"No! For taking my mind off the plane," James smiles. "You didn't have to do that."

"Yes I did. It was distracting, I couldn't sleep." 

James's smile widens. "You're pretty nice, for a rat." He holds out a hand to shake. "I'm James. James Hunt." 

The Austrian scowls charmingly and takes the offered hand. "Niki Lauda," he says abruptly. 

"Lovely to meet you, then, Niki." James resolves to irritate this man as much as possible to achieve maximum scowling - it's adorable.

"Ladies and gentlemen,  we've reached our cruising altitude. In a few minutes we'll be coming through the cabin with beverages, and the seatbelt signs will be turning off shortly. Thanks again for flying with us tonight." The stewardess's voice floats over the intercom.

James turns back to Niki. "So, if you're an engineer and a racing fan,  what's your favorite car?"

"Ferrari, of course. They are the best." Niki says this as though it should be obvious.

"Oh, you're a car snob. I might have guessed," James sighs.

"Well? You do not think Ferrari is the best? Then what is your favorite?" Niki challenges.

"Wait a minute,  I never said Ferrari wasn't the best!" James laughs.

"So we're both car snobs, then,"

"Yes, I suppose we are." 

Eventually, the beverage cart reaches them. 

"Here you are, sir." The flight attendant hands over an orange juice for Niki and a rum-and-coke for James. She's olive-skinned and dark-haired, and ordinarily, she and James would end up in a back compartment somewhwere, but tonight, James doesn't look twice at her. 

***

They talk for nearly half an hour, sipping their drinks slowly, falling into an easy banter wherin race cars and insults are equally prevalent. But Niki has been up since four this morning, and it's getting harder to keep his eyes open. Niki makes a snide remark about James's comment on McClaren's team, and James can't think of a snappy comeback fast enough. Instead he grins, saying, "You win this time, Austrian rat, but I was going easy on you. Get some sleep, my friend."

Niki glares owlishly at the Brit and crosses his arms, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. James exhales slowly, closing his eyes.

***

Margaret sniffs, waking when a flight attendant reaches over her to take the empty cups before the two boys in 27E and 27F. They're both asleep, the blond one in the red jacket snoring softly. The little one - He sounds almost German, doesn't he? - sits with his arms crossed over his chest. His face is half-covered by his brunette curls, and his head is slowly drooping to the left, where the British man is dozing. 

Said British man - Did he say his name was James? - is sprawled, at least as far as one can sprawl in a business class airplane seat, his mouth open slightly. His knees are spread apart and his elbows are propped on the armrests on either side of him. The fingers of his right hand barely graze the German boy's left leg.

Margaret is a deeply spiritual person, who believes in kismet and auras and positive energy and such. She also happens to believe in soulmates. She was napping as the plane took off, and during the beverage cart's slow journey through the cabin. This prevented her from witnessing the boys' conversation. But if she had been awake, she would be certain that these two had a very strong connection.

She probably would have made a comment about her opinion, something like, "Now, have you boys met before? No? Perhaps in a past life, I can see you're very in tune with one another."

Niki would have scoffed - he's not above mocking old women - and said that there's no such thing as past lives. James would have grinned and made a bad pun or a pick-up line relates to reincarnation. Margaret would have smiled and waved a hand at the pair, insisting that their reaction just proved her point. Clearly, she would say, their energies balance out, making them perfect for each other. 

It would have taken a moment to sink in. Then both of them would start hastily protesting that no, that's absurd, they would never - no, with him? Not a chance. Ever.

Margaret would have smiled indulgently, and said something passive and smug like, "alright, boys, whatever you say," and then the two would spend several minutes awkwardly tripping over words and being overly polite.

But Margaret had slept through their conversation, remember?  So none of the above mentioned things happened. James and Niki drank their beverages and insulted one another, and then they fell peacefully asleep. Now, Niki’s head finally sinks to James's shoulder, and James's head slowly falls to rest on top of Niki’s. Margaret looks over at them and she does smile indulgently, but she says nothing, because waking them could disrupt the threads of energy that are binding the two more closely with every minute. And Margaret has never been one to get in the way of destiny.

***

James awakens at about four thirty, blinking groggily. The lights in the plane are dim, just bright enough to avoid any unfortunate accidents. Nearly everyone is asleep, a few brave souls still reading or typing on laptops, their screen brightness turned all the way down. Outside the window is a deep blue-grey fog. 

James becomes aware of a weight on his shoulder, and turns his head slightly to see a mop of brown curls resting by his neck. He blinks. He blinks again.

He's not really sure about the proper etiquette for when a stranger falls asleep on you - but is Niki really a stranger? James feels like he's known the man for years, though they literally met hours ago, traded insults, and then fell asleep.

Now, James is not straight. Despite what his friends and many female conquests would suggest, he has no preference for men, women, or anything in between. He's not naive enough to think that Niki’s head on his shoulder means anything. The bloke's an Austrian engineer, for fuck's sake. There's no way he's anything less straight than a yardstick. But looking at the unruly brown curls and pale skin nestled against his red jacket, James allows a little smile to creep across his lips. He doesn't have a problem letting Niki use him as a pillow for a few hours, so he closes his eyes and takes a slow breath, letting sleep pull him back under.

***

When Niki wakes, he lifts a hand to rub at his eyes - or tries to. His left hand is pinned under the forearm of one James Hunt, who has slumped further towards Niki in his sleep. In fact, Niki’s leaning just as much against James. Niki’s groggy brain takes a moment to absorb this. Then the common sense kicks in, and Niki sits bolt upright, blushing. The sudden loss of his pillow rouses James, and he rolls his head around, stretching his neck. Then he looks at Niki, who is scowling (endearingly, James thinks) at him, pink dusting his cheeks.

"Rise and shine, love," James says obnoxiously. 

"I'm not your 'love,'" Niki says curtly, blushing harder.

James grins and stretches, arching his back. "What time is it?"

Niki checks his mobile. "Two forty-eight PM, London time." He says. "We'll land in about an hour."

Yawning, James asks casually, "So, how was your sleep?" Niki glares at him.

"Terrible. My pillow was too hard and lumpy. It was like sleeping on a sack of rocks." He complains. But his eyes have a little glimmer of mirth in them, crinkling up at the corners.

"You wound me so," James places a dramatic hand over his heart.

***

"Tea or coffee? Tea or coffee, anyone? For you, sir? Would you like cream or sugar? Tea or coffee?" A flight attendant makes her way down the aisle, holding a tray of steaming Styrofoam cups with the airline logo printed on them.

"Tea or coffee?" She reaches Row 27. "I'll take a tea, please, cream, no sugar, thank you, dear." The tea goes to the elderly lady in the aisle. Two coffees follow, two sugars for the middle, black for the window.

Oh, it's these two. She been watching them - no, it's not weird, okay? She has to spend half her life serving drinks and checking seat belts,  she's allowed to do a little people watching. 

She saw them arrive separately, total strangers to each other. She served them their orange juice and rum-and-coke as they bantered like old friends (or a married couple). She took their empty plastic cups and folded up their tray tables as they slept, just two random people sat beside each other on a plane. She fought the urge to squeal and giggle like a lunatic when she walked by them again, snuggled together like a teenaged couple. And she wishes she could have seen the grumpy curly-haired one's face when he woke to discover his new pillow. It must have been priceless.

***

James and Niki settle back into their friendly shit-talking as they sip their coffee. Niki says James's hair is too shaggy, he looks like a dog. James replies that Niki’s face looks like a little boy's, does he even shave? 

They continue in this manner until the flight attendant comes back for their empty cups. And they would keep going, but they're interrupted by the captain's voice.

"Hello, this is your captain speaking. We'll be beginning our descent shortly, so we ask that you fasten your seatbelts, turn off cell phones and put up your tray tables. We're arriving three minutes behind schedule at three fifty-two at Heathrow International Airport, where the temperature is sixty-one degrees Fahrenheit, sixteen degrees Celsius. Thanks again for choosing to fly with us today, and enjoy the rest of your flight."

Immediately, James feels the anxiety bloom in his stomach, his hands tightening into fists in his lap. Niki must have noticed, because he touches James's knee reassuringly. 

"Just don't think about it. Focus on something else." His soft, sharply accented voice is strangely soothing, the way it rises unexpectedly at times. 

"Like what? Budgerigars?" James snorts.

"What the hell is a budge- a budgerigar," Niki says flatly.

"You don't know? You, my friend, have been robbed of a wonderful treasure. Budgerigars are these lovely little birds - like tiny gifts from God."

Niki’s face is blank and his head is shaking slightly. He must think James is crazy. James grins and insists, "See, you think I have a bird fetish, but really, you don't know what you've been missing. Their little faces are so sweet - ah, I know! When we land and we can use our mobiles again, I'll look them up and show you. It's very important."

Niki smirks. "OK, then, I want to see these... budgerigars."

"Then we have a deal." James declares, and they shake hands on it.

***

Niki looks out the window, where green pastures and small towns give way to tall brick buildings and busy streets. The plane tilts into a wide banking turn, and when Niki glances at James,  his eyes are shut tightly, his hands clasped together. 

"Hey, if you fell now, from this height, you would die so quickly it wouldn't even hurt," he says, because he's a dick and because he can. James whacks him.

"Fuck off," he grins. Niki pokes his shoulder. 

"Open your eyes," he insists. "You can see all of London from here, it's beautiful."

James takes a shaky breath and forces his eyes open. He takes a quick peek out the window and whips his head back, closing his eyes once more.

"Come on," Niki teases. "Do I have to hold your hand?" James scowls at him - Ha! So he is capable of making such an expression - but turns again to look out the window. At first, he just looks sick, but as Niki watches, his expression relaxes. His eyes skip around over the city, probably looking at all the buildings that mean something to him. Niki smiles slightly at the sight as James leans over him to get a better view.

"See? It's not that bad." Niki says softly. "And now the next time you fly, the person sitting next to you won't be bothered by your worrying."

James turns to give him a look, but because he's leaning towards the window, his face is now only inches from Niki’s. He abruptly sits back upright in his seat and laughs.

"Well, maybe I should hire you as my special in-flight therapist."

"That's ridiculous, why would I want to spend my time comforting you on planes? I have better things to do," Niki’s grinning as he speaks.

The plane is in its final descent, only a few hundred feet high. James takes a breath and looks back out the window as the runway gets closer and closer. He flinches when the wheels strike the tarmac, but Niki sees the tiniest hint of a smile at the corners of his lips. 

***

As the plane taxis towards the terminal, James suddenly remembers something. He whips out his mobile with a flourish and Googles 'budgies.' As he waits for the images to load, he looks over at Niki, who doesn't look nearly as excited as he should. 

"Look happy," he orders, "You're about to be amazed by adorable blue and green birds. They will change your life." The pictures are starting to pop up on the screen, and Niki dutifully bows his head to look at them. At first, he says nothing, his face blank, his eyes scanning the images. But when he gets to a picture of a fluffy blue and white one nestled in a teacup, he gives a little huff, a small smile spreading on his lips. James keeps scrolling, not looking at the phone, but at Niki. The uptight Austrian now has a hand over his mouth as he tries desperately not to giggle like a child. James thinks it's probably one of the cutest things he's ever seen, including his budgie friends.

Niki looks up at James, clearing his throat, schooling his expression back to neutral calm. But his eyes are still sparkling and the corner of his mouth twitches just a bit. "They are pretty cute," He concedes.

"Aha! I win!" James crows, delighted.

***

The seatbelt sign blinks off, and the plane explodes into movement. People are standing, collecting their luggage from the overhead bins and their children from the window seats, the front of the plane begins to empty as the people pour out. Back in Row 27, Margaret stirs, opening her eyes. 

"Ah, we're here," She says serenely. "Excellent."  
She smiles at James and Niki, who are now scrolling through pictures of hedgehogs and laughing like schoolboys. Their connection is very strong. She wonders what fate has in mind for them. Perhaps they'll go their separate ways and never meet again. Perhaps they'll bump into each other at some point, for just a moment. Or perhaps... Margaret cuts herself off. Destiny is unknowable, and she doesn't want to jinx it. Just in case.

***

The family of five in Row 26 shuffle into the aisle, and Margaret follows them, glancing back at Niki with a smile. James rises, twisting to reach the overhead compartment and heaving his duffel out. But he sets it on Margaret's seat and reaches up again to lift down Niki’s suitcase.

Niki is surprised by this courtesy, but manages a quick "Thank you," slides out the long handle of his case and follows James up the aisle.

In the long beige tunnel from the plane to the airport, James slows to fall into step beside Niki. 

"Thanks, again, for helping me out, there," He starts.

Niki waves a hand. "Don't mention it," He smiles. James smiles back.

"How long are you here for? Or are you connecting to Vienna right away?" 

"No, I'll be here for six days, I have a meeting on Thursday," Niki runs a hand through his hair. "But you know, I've never been to London for more than a day. So I have a lot to keep me busy for the rest of my stay." He looks like he's about to continue, but he's interrupted by his mobile ringing. Digging in his pocket, he checks the caller ID. James doesn't look, out of politeness, but he sees Niki’s shoulders tense.

Niki hits the 'Ignore' button and replaces his phone in his pocket, sighing. James looks at him, torn between minding his own business and concern for Niki. In the end, he asks anyway.

"Who was that? If you don't mind my asking, that is," Niki looks at him sharply, then exhales, his shoulders sagging.

"No, it's alright," he says wearily. "That was my ex. He's been calling quite often since I broke up with him."

James's mind has ceased to function, based on two pieces of information that are jamming his signals. They are A) He's single and B) He's gay, in that order. 

After several moments of silence, James remembers that among humans, there is a tradition in which the words 'Oh. I'm sorry. That sounds difficult,' feature prominently.  He knows he should be participating in this tradition now, but what he really wants to do is jump up and down cheering. However, that is not acceptable in civilized society, so he gives Niki a sympathetic look, and says, "Oh. Sorry... he was too possessive?"

"Something like that," Niki confirms, "I didn't like the way he treated me, so I dumped him." He shrugs. "He's a schwanz."

"Well, his loss, then." James grins. Niki nods once, decisively. He turns left to make his way towards the baggage claim. James follows, though he doesn't have any checked luggage.

"And you," Niki begins, "You live here, in London?"

"Yes, I have a flat near Covent Garden," James hitches up his duffel on his shoulder. "It's actually a good place to have a look around, while you're here. There are a few excellent pubs there, I would suggest the Porterhouse, or my personal favorite,  the Cross Keys."

"I'll keep that in mind. Anywhere else I should go?" They slow to a halt by the baggage claim, watching the suitcases glide past them.

"Well, there are lots of places. Actually, if you'd like, I can show you around the city," James feels a sudden need to slap a hand over his mouth. It just slipped out. Fuck. Oh well, too late now.

"Really?" Niki’s not running away. He's not even phased by James basically asking him out. In fact, he looks... interested. James allows himself a mental cheer, and grins, saying, "Yeah, I'll give you my number, just call whenever you fancy a drink and a look around."

Niki grins back, handing his mobile to James, who enters his number as Niki grabs his suitcase off the conveyor belt. He hands the phone back, relishing the way his fingers brush Niki’s. 

"I look forward to it." Niki says. James's stomach flips. He has a date with a cute bloke he's just met on the plane. Miracles do happen.

They walk out of the airport together to hail taxis to their flat and hotel, respectively. James opens the door of the first one for Niki, grinning like an idiot. Niki leans up and gives him a kiss on the cheek. 

"See you later," he says, and slips into the taxi.

James hails another, and his mobile chirps as he directs the driver to his flat. According to the caller ID, it's an unknown number. James opens the text, smiling when he sees the message. 

:( -Niki.

James opens the Google search for budgies again, finding the image of the one in the teacup. He sends the image to Niki, then sets it as the profile picture for his new contact.

Today is a fantastic day for James Hunt. 

*** 

Niki can't stop smiling on the way to his hotel.

"Just met someone?" The taxi driver asks with a knowing look. He has a white beard, green eyes and a very old, well-worn gold wedding band on his left hand.

"Ya, actually... I did." Niki’s mobile buzzes. His lock screen alerts him to a message from 'James ;) <3 <3.' The message is the picture of a fluffy blue and white budgie, nestled in a teacup. Niki lets out a helpless giggle.

"Sounds like you're having a good day, then," The old cabbie says amicably.

"'Good' would be an immense understatement, sir." Today is much more than a good day for Niki Lauda.


End file.
